


Green

by NikoNotHere



Series: One-Shots [4]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Friendship/Love, Green Eyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere
Summary: Eyes are the windows to the soul, and Till's are no exception. But sometimes, you see just as much when the eyes close, too.
Relationships: Till Lindemann/unnamed band member
Series: One-Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126496
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	Green

His eyes are green.

There’s been a lot of discussion around Till’s eye color, apparently even going back to when he was a kid. He told me his parents once disagreed about the color— his mother called them green and his father insisted they were blue. The disagreement turned to an argument after his father drank, and he was yanked around under a lamp until his father begrudgingly decided they were “blue-green.”

His passport says they’re blue, but with a chuckle, Till admitted he just went along with whatever the person taking the photo suggested. The rest of the band is pretty divided on the topic whenever it’s brought up. All the band photos we take either artificially adjust his eye color one way or another, but usually trend to blue. I guess they’re a bit more striking when you make them bright blue.

You hear a lot that the “eyes are the window to the soul,” and it’s true, in a way. But the converse of it is true, too. The closing of the eyes can be equally as revealing as seeing into them. With Till, it’s like a game I used to play when I was young; we called it “stoplight.” Someone who was the “stoplight” stood across the room, back to the rest, and yelled “green light,” meaning the rest had to run to try and reach the stoplight. The stoplight would then turn around and yell “red light,” forcing everyone to freeze in place. Those still running or who fell over trying to freeze were out, and the stoplight turned around to say “green light” again. Everyone knows that green means go.

It’s the same with Till.

The first “go” is his eyes opening in the morning. I never wake him up if I can help it, even though I always wake up first. It’s always the same, too— he lets out a long noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, kicks his foot down the bed and rolls from his side onto his back. He slowly wakes, and then turns his head to look at me. His eyes are the brightest first thing in the morning when he looks at me and right before he drifts off to sleep every night. I’m one of very few people who’s been privileged enough to see both.

When his eyes open, they’re a little bleary, but happy when they come to a rest as they meet mine. The green is strong and bright and is almost always a determined “go.” Sometimes the green is clouded by mist if dreams weren’t kind to him; but as soon as I see it, I take his head in my hands and kiss away the lingering nightmares. He grumbles and turns away, but his eyes show thankfulness before he does, and I know he appreciates it.

Sometimes, the green in his eyes is harsh. Whether someone he cares about is insulted or harmed, if rehearsals are interrupted for the umpteenth time, or even if he can’t get the right word down for a poem or lyric— his eyes narrow, and the visible green that’s left is fiery. It’s a cold fire, and chills to the bone whoever it settles on. I’m thankful I’ve only seen the bits and pieces of that fire. I’m not sure anyone has seen all of it, and I feel pretty confident the person who does won’t see much after it.

There’s a different fire I do get to see, though. I admittedly pursue it probably more than he prefers, but he almost never denies me. In those moments alone, with his hand tangled in my hair and his eyes locked on mine, the green is a hot, lustful fire that sets my own insides ablaze. If the roles are reversed, and it’s my hand on his head, he rolls his eyes up to mine, blissfully and obediently, never looking elsewhere and doing his best to never close his eyes. Regardless of who goes where, I always know that when Till’s eyes close, it means stop. When the green disappears, and he tears away his intense gaze for more than brief blinks, everything stops. It’s our silent communication that I don’t even know how we agreed on. It just sort of happened. This is a fire I’ve learned I couldn’t live without now that I’ve experienced it.

My favorite glimpses of his soul— the best green his eyes offer— is when love overflows from him. It isn’t very often, and it’s been a long road even getting it to appear as often as it does now, but it makes the warmth of summer sun and the refreshing cool of slow moving streams seem repulsive in comparison. When he shows the rising love that he can’t smother or shrug off or hide anymore, his eyes truly sparkle. You see it when children approach him and ask for a hug or candy, and he adoringly obliges with bear hugs and entire bowls of sweets; you see it when he manages to pull a prank mid-show, and he cackles his way gleefully back across the stage; and I see it when he holds a hand out to me, asking me to join him on the balcony to watch the sunrise after a sleepless night. It’s love, pure and concentrated, and nothing on earth makes me happier than seeing it.

At the end of the day, or whenever he finally decides he’s ready to gamble with his dreams in bed once more, I see the green at its brightest yet again. Till always turns his head to me, smiles a very pleasant, contented smile, then kisses me as he closes his eyes. That final glimpse of deep, sleepy green, slowly closing as his face nears mine, lets me know it’s time to stop— it’s time to close the book on today and start again tomorrow. I fall asleep after him, every time, listening to his heavy breaths and knowing I’ll see the same green when it’s time to get up and go tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to ask this before, but I'm curious who you think the "narrator" is in this fic.
> 
> This was a small fic for FLEISCHGEWEHR's prompt. I was given this color/shades and created a story from it
> 
> https://www.color-hex.com/color/3fb010


End file.
